What She Dreams
by Shar-dono
Summary: Every time someone dreams of becoming a longlost Skywalker...... A MarySue Parody.


**_Disclaimers:_ **Written for and contributed to _"**Mary-Sue Moments Round Robin**"_ on Fictionised. This is a Mary-Sue Parody. The characters in this work of fiction are inspired by but not rip-offs of real fanfic Sues/Stus. StarWars, StarWars EU, and all related trademarks belong to the Empire more commonly known as LucasFilm and its Partners and affliates

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**What She Dreams**

There were two things in the world Pheniox was absolutely sure of. _One_, that she was a Skywalker sibling, and _two_, that it was her exclusive destiny to rescue the Galaxy and everyone in it.

She was the eldest, of course, and therefore naturally the most advanced and talented in the ways of the Force. There was never any question as to just how much power she had; she was the First-born of Anakin Skywalker, the most midichlorian-infested man in the known universe. How she knew anything of life beyond the harsh Tatooine desert is a mystery, especially under the strict, closed-doors guardianship of her uncle Owen.

Pheniox and her younger brother Luke have lived together on the Lars homestead since Luke was born and she was four, where their uncle Owen and aunt Beru raised them as their own. Some days, however, Pheniox was raised elsewhere, by unimportant, non-specific personnel until she was of an age to adventure on her own, land on the most boring and miserable planet there ever was to accidentally find her long-lost little brother and began living with him on their uncle's farm. – She could never really decide which.

Owen Lars was a rough, thin-lipped man who might not have felt the need to yell quite so much if his nephew and niece were better behaved. But since neither Pheniox nor Luke could be humanitarianly expected to be anything but their wilful selves, they never got to find out.

"Acie! Where are you? Have you cleaned out the vaporators like I asked yet?"

"No, Uncle Owen," Pheniox screamed across the courtyard. "I'm busy!"

"Acie! You're not filling your brother's head with nonsense again, are you?" The farmer demanded, opening the garage door.

Pheniox squinted and shielded her eyes from the sudden flood of bright Tatooine morning light. "It's not nonsense!" She replied hotly. "And I told you! My name is Pheniox, not Acie!"

"Alright, Pheniox." Owen Lars exasperated, then sighed. "Look, it'll be noon soon. You'd better get started on the vaporators or it'll get too hot to be outside. And find Luke," He added, pitching his voice over the family's land-speeder deliberately. "I'm taking him to pick out some new droids."

"You're just doing that to split us up!" Pheniox protested angrily. "You can't stop me from training him! You can't keep us from our destiny forever!"

The gaunt moisture farmer counted to ten under his breath and made a conscious effort to ignore her. The "Destiny" speech was an old delusion of the girl's. There were only two "Destinies" available on Tatooine: moisture farming, or working for the Hutts, and even less options for a young woman of her age.

"Just leave us alone, Uncle Owen!"

She glared in his direction until the man backed out of the garage and slid the door back down.

"Is that really okay, Acie?" A blond head emerged briefly from the far side of the speeder.

"Of course, Luke, don't worry, he can't stop us. He's no match for the Force and I am the most powerful Jedi in our family." She smiled kindly at him, ignoring the transgression with her name.

Pheniox could not imagine a better little brother than Luke Skywalker, nor a better pupil. He was bright and hard-working and unfailingly loyal towards his eldest sister. He had been well-trained, but while he still had much to learn in the ways of the Force, he will never be as good as Pheniox. To her pride, this did not discourage him from trying; neither did it cause him to love his sister any less devotedly.

"I wanted to go with him, you know." He muttered reproachfully.

"No you don't." Pheniox insisted quickly, squinting hard and waving her hand mystically at him. "You want to stay here with me and train."

The young man shrugged and went back to reading comics on a scratched datapad, sprawled limply across the floor with his head propped up against the side of the old family vehicle.

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The sputtering hum of a distant land-speeder made the man at the breakfast table look up just as his son stepped through the kitchen door.

"Where's your sister, Rusk?" The man's wife asked pleasantly from the sink, where she was potting seedlings for the underground crop nursery.

Rusk groaned.

"She's gone to Obi-Wan's hut again." He answered reluctantly.

"On the speeder?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Well then, you'd better go after her."

"Aww Ma, she's not gonna get in any trouble at the Skywalker Tour, they've got all sorts of security and people for that," Rusk wheedled half-heartedly. He knew he was not going to get out of it, but he had to try. "Even if she's stark-raving mad. How long are we keeping her, anyway?"

"That's a terrible thing to say about your sister. And you know it's the Dune Sea I'm worried about. I don't care what they've done to that place, it's just not safe."

"Better leave her to the Tuskens, if she keeps being stupid." The young man blurted without thinking.

"_**RUSK!**_" Anra Whitsun exclaimed in horror.

"Alright, alright! I'm going, I'm going!" Rusk ducked out hastily, deeply chagrined at having upset his mother. Leff waited until he heard his son's speeder fade away before speaking.

"He's right, Mother, how long are we going to keep her? She's a grown woman with a family of her own. She should be at home – _her_ home, tending to them."

Acie was a Whitsun, daughter of a moisture farmer, wife of a moisture farmer, and mother of three would-be moisture farmers, with a fourth one on the way. At age twenty-four, she already closely resembled her mother in the wizened, weathered ways of Tatooine moisture farm women.

"Oh come now, dear. She is your daughter and she's going through a tough time right now. Don't turn her away!"

"She's crazy, like her brother says. It's like she has some sort of implant that warps everything she sees. Half the time she thinks I'm Owen Lars!"

"Why, you should be flattered, dear. Owen Lars was a good, strong man."

"Can't say the same about that nephew of his, though. Nothing but trouble, that kid."

"He helped defeat the Emperor,"

"Fat lot of good that did to us." Leff grumbled, and he had a point. The death of the Emperor and subsequent decline and fall of the Empire had made very little difference to the simple men and women eking out an existence on these fringes of civilisation such as Tatooine's moisture farms. There was a brief sizzle of the sensational attached to the Skywalker name, nothing more.

"Maybe we should look into one of those places… an institution or some such like…"

"She's just confused, Leff."

Acie Whitsun had spoken with Wormie… Luke Skywalker, perhaps twice in his entire life, although she often saw him loitering around Tosche station in her youth. Neither encounters were particularly pleasant, but because this was fairly typical of most female encounters teenaged Luke had, and since Acie could barely recall any details from her life before age fifteen, all this was conveniently lost in the mists of time.

"Last week she thought she was some kind of giant droid operator from the future... on some planet called Earth. "

"I know, dear. Remember, tough time!"

"That's your excuse for everything wrong with her." Leff Whitsun sighed.

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**_A/N:  
_**The _"Skywalker Tour"_ is a gimmick someone came up with to turn Obi-Wan's run-down hut into some kind of local attraction in the EU. 


End file.
